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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807631">Prizefight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament'>LaughableLament</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Biting, Bottom Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, Deleted Scene, Dirty Talk, Episode: s02e15 Tall Tales, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Fistfight, Hair-pulling, Light Bondage, Light Spanking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:34:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn’t tell Bobby <i>everything</i> that happened since they got to town.<br/>or…<br/>One dirty deleted scene from “Tall Tales” (2x15).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Prizefight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Love forever to <a href="https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/">Nisaki</a>, who encourages my favorite impulses. ♥‿♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam fumed. </p><p>“You know…” He’d show his brother <em> joy to be around</em>. “How would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?”</p><p>“Be the last thing you ever did,” Dean fucking sat there, kicked back, smug as hell.</p><p>“Get up.” Sam went for Dean’s arm but he jerked it back.</p><p>“Hey, fuck you, man.”</p><p>“If you’re sitting on my laptop right now, I’m gonna kick your ass to Saturn.”  </p><p>“Saturn?” Lip curl and an infuriating head-tilt. “You sure you don’t—”</p><p>“Do <em>not </em>make a pun about Uranus.” Sam stalked around, grabbed the chair and tipped Dean forward.</p><p>“Seriously!” Dean dug in, feet braced on the dull carpet. “I didn’t hide your computer, okay? Jesus!”</p><p>Sam dropped his hips and launched a sharp shove. Chair legs lifted and Dean popped up, came around swinging. Missed high and Sam jammed the seat into his shins.</p><p>“Ow! You little fucker!” </p><p>Sam gave Dean no chance to square up. He knocked the chair aside and bull-rushed his brother, rammed a shoulder in Dean’s middle. Dean <em> oofed </em> but he twisted, redirected Sam’s momentum and sent him stumbling. Took Sam’s knees out—not hard, just enough to ground him before he wrapped Sam up from behind. </p><p>“You need to chill the fuck out.”</p><p>Sam tried a reverse head-butt but Dean dodged that too. Sideways spill got their hips out from under them. Sam scrambled free and they climbed back to their feet. </p><p>Circling, in between the kitchenette and the beds. “Where is it, Dean? I’m not playing with you.”</p><p>“I’m not playin’ either, man! The fuck!”</p><p>Sam feinted on a right jab, uppercut left and nailed Dean’s solar plexus. Dean stepped back and shook it off, lunged and slammed Sam backward, drove his breath out. Leftover Chinese takeout boxes tumbled; old-timey pale blue fridge rocked with his impact. Sam stomped on Dean’s foot and shoved him off.</p><p>“Dick!” Dean hissed through his teeth. He aimed a roundhouse at Sam’s jaw—obvious fakeout, too smart to punch Sam’s face and bust his knuckles for no good reason. Sam stepped in, ducked Dean’s swing and speared him, Goldberg-worthy, to the nearest bed.</p><p>Dean torqued on the rebound. Legs and arms got tangled and Dean came out on top, tight hold around Sam’s wrists. Sam squirmed. </p><p>Dean’s hands, knees, and hips caged him up neat. “You cool?”</p><p>“No I’m not cool!” Sam kicked, ineffective. Squishy mattress fucked his leverage. </p><p>Dean rolled his hips. “Hey, do that again.” Smirk made Sam’s blood boil.</p><p>“Get. Off.” Sam glared up.</p><p>“That a promise?” Dean rocked down and Sam had to stifle a moan. </p><p>He craned his neck and bit Dean’s lower lip. “You’ll be getting off alone until the end of time if y—”</p><p>Dean’s tongue invaded.</p><p>Sam grunted, twisted away from Dean’s mouth, but, undeterred, Dean locked lips on the side of Sam’s neck. Sam’s traitor dick perked up for it. Sharp sting of teeth in his shoulder shocked a moan out. Dean laughed, low and rumbling, and Sam bucked, belt buckles clicked and Dean’s grip softened on his wrists.</p><p>Goosebumps raced Sam’s arms. Dean’s breath washed cool over spit-slick, fevered skin. Dean hummed, and, without turning Sam loose, slid his hands up, palm-to-palm. Fingers intertwined. Teeth tugged Sam’s earlobe.</p><p>Dean murmured, “Taste good, little brother.”</p><p>Sam’s irritation thawed, but he was stubborn. “Blow me.” Scrabbling, he scooted toward the pale carved headboard. Big slab of solid wood, if he could brace against it—</p><p>“I’m gonna do better than that.” Dean hovered, propped on all fours, staring down. Tongue dragged his teeth. Lips shined and his nostrils flared. Cocky. </p><p>Sam thrashed. One quick jolt knocked Dean sideways, not enough to toss him off. </p><p>“That’s the spirit.”</p><p>Sam steamed. </p><p>Dean rose to his knees, dragged Sam up by his lapels. Crashing, kissing like he fought: all-in, no regard for flying fists—or, in this case, snapping teeth. Sam shoved, feeble. Dean sucked his tongue, tickled the underside and made him groan. Dean smirked against his lips. </p><p>Hands at his shoulders, inside his coat. Dean pushed it down around his elbows and while Sam tried to untangle himself—</p><p>
  <em> Rip! </em>
</p><p>Flannel buttons scattered and Dean nosed in Sam’s t-shirt collar. </p><p>“What the fuck, Dean.” He liked that shirt.</p><p>“I’ll sew ’em back on, just…” Suction, just above Sam’s collarbone. “Let me…” Friction in his lap. </p><p>Sam growled. Wrestled off his outer layers while Dean held him close. Dean’s amulet dug in his chest. Teeth raked his neck and as soon as Sam got his hands free he grabbed Dean by the jaws and tipped him up, took over the kissing. Licked and nipped and tongue-fucked until, finally, the need to breathe outgunned the urge to suck the smart out of Dean’s mouth.</p><p>Panting, “Hey.” Dean bumped their foreheads, stole Sam’s air. “I didn’t touch your computer, man.” Eye contact, little head-shake and, “I <em> wouldn’t </em>.”</p><p>Most of Sam’s lingering rage rushed out on a hard exhale. “Shut up, Dean,” Dean nodded, made to stand but Sam two-fisted his open collar, “and fuck me.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Dean leered. “Now you’re talkin’!” </p><p>Sam flopped back, started on his belt. Leather whisked through metal, then denim as he slid it off. Dean chewed his lip, nodded, knelt above Sam, upside-down lap dance. Sam undid his button, dragged his zipper down, slow. <em> Click-click-click </em>. </p><p>“You gonna take another swing at me?” Dean asked, easing off the bed. Off Sam.</p><p>“Only if you don’t hurry up.”</p><p>Dean’s smile landed like a haymaker.</p><p>Sam peeled his shirt off, sweat clung, and he leaned down, untied his shoes.</p><p>“Heads up,” Dean said, tossed the lube and Sam caught it on the fly, popped the cap. “Uh-uh.” Dean pointed. “Flip.”</p><p>Sam eye-rolled, his annoyance flared, but—faster than he could rack a comeback, Dean seized him again. </p><p>Fistful of nape hair, Dean jerked Sam’s head back. “I said, <em> flip </em>.”</p><p>Sam’s dick surged. “Make me.”</p><p>Dean’s eyes narrowed, tongue ran out. Fingers curled in Sam’s waistband and Dean hoisted, spun Sam. Pulled his hair and made him grunt. Tears sprang. Sam elbowed Dean’s ribs. </p><p>“Bitch!” Dean breathed, and he put Sam facedown, blanketed him.</p><p>Obligatory, <em> “Jerk,” </em> came out in a grunt from Sam’s smashed mouth.</p><p>Dean pinned him by the neck and worked his jeans down past his ass. Forearm barred on his back. Bed shook, squeaked and the sound of Dean’s fly opening made Sam shiver. </p><p>“You gonna be good, or have I gotta tie you down?” Dean’s belt zipped through its loops as he whipped it free. </p><p>“Fuck you,” Sam spit back over his shoulder while he grit his teeth. Dick leaked on the bedspread while Dean wrapped his wrists in leather. </p><p>Pulling. Sam craned for a look. Dean held the belt’s loose end like a leash. Dragged Sam backward, chest-over-knees and a dry, rough finger pet his hole. Sam twisted, thrashed his hips and Dean dropped one loud smack across his cheek. Palmprint-shaped smolder. Fist in Sam’s hair, Dean hauled him upright. Hissed, “I’m gonna get this ass, Sam. Easy or hard, it’s up to you.” </p><p>Dean shoved him down again. Sam’s face bounced in his shed clothes, left where they’d landed. Dean knelt up behind him, forced Sam’s legs wide. Denim dug his thighs and Dean’s belt bit his wrists. Sam flailed, token resistance. </p><p>Lube, then. One wet finger plunged inside. Sam grunted, tried to flatten out, get away, but all he got was another finger. Dean burned in him, filled him up, faster than he could adjust. Sam panted. Sweat rolled up his back and precome poured. </p><p>“Oughta make you come like this, wear you out and fuck you once you’re loose.”</p><p>Sam growled, kicked at the mattress, fought but failed to close his legs. Dean pumped in him, smeared more lube, felt around inside until Sam lit up. Howled, muffled. Strained against Dean’s improv handcuffs. Writhed on his fingers. Balls drew up. </p><p>Dean left him empty. Heartbeats passed, stinging heat. Dean’s cockhead caught, then slipped; he tried again. Sam stretched. Clenched his teeth and fists. Dean clutched Sam’s hips. Lube, sweat, and precome slicked him everywhere. Dean dug in, drove home, hollered for him. </p><p>Sam grayed out and took it. Dean slammed into him. Sam’s face scraped through the clothes pile. Body shook. Shoulders and wrists ached. Dean fucked, merciless. Ran his mouth.</p><p>“Fuck, you love it like this. Fuckin’ brat. Oughta keep you bent over and tied up all the time, teach you some manners.”</p><p>Sam wormed his head free, just to say, “You could <em> try </em> it.”</p><p>Dean heaved Sam back, speared him all the way. Swirled in him. Pitched forward, latched on teeth and sucked. Sam teetered. Dangling, dripping dick jerked with his pulse. He needed—</p><p>Dean yelled. Bolted upright. Sam felt him inside, spilling, raging. They flopped forward. Friction, finally. Sam ground, sensitized and stuffed full. Humped a rough bedspread while Dean bit, squeezed him. Bruised his back and hips. Sam’s head spun. On top, inside, behind him, Dean swore. Sam locked up, dropped out, opened fire. Scalding, soaking. Dean roared.</p><p>Heavy breathing. </p><p>“Shit, Sam.” Dean rolled off. Cool air rushed over and Sam shivered. Dean unwound his wrists. “Marked you up pretty bad.” Massaging. Sam groaned. Dean worked up, rubbed his arms and shoulders. “You okay?”</p><p>“I’m…” <em> not fratricidal anymore</em>. “Better.” Sam turned on his side, faced his brother. </p><p>“Sammy you…” Dean licked lips, still mostly dressed: pants at his knees, shirt damp and rumpled. “I mean…” Cheeks blew out, eyes wide. “That was…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam winced as he rolled his neck. He’d be sore in a bunch of new ways for a couple of days. </p><p>“Let’s take the night off, huh? Get some beers, catch a game…”</p><p>“I have to find my laptop, Dean!” Sam barked. Reeled himself in. “I—”</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Dean clapped a hand under Sam’s jaw, moved in for kisses. “Don’t worry, Linus, we’ll find your blankie.”</p><p>“I will fucking kill you,” Sam said.</p><p>Dean wagged eyebrows.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Two Days Later</em> </b>
</p><p>They dropped Bobby off at his car and hauled ass out of Springfield. Dean drove four hours flat-out, didn't stop until they crossed the Mississippi.</p><p>“Hey!” Dean smacked Sam’s arm. “We’re in Waffle House country! You in?” </p><p>And, even though Sam could’ve absolutely demolished an All-Star Special right then, he bitched, “Seriously? We can’t stop someplace where they serve—I dunno—more than two vegetables?”</p><p>Dean looked over, puzzled and a little wounded. Sam licked lips, Dean squinted, then his eyes lit up. “Ohhh it’s gonna be like that, huh?”</p><p>Sam folded his arms. “Damn right it is.”</p><p>Dean faked a glare. “Fine. You pick the food but—” </p><p>Sam couldn’t help but notice, Dean adjusted himself.</p><p>“I’m picking the motel.”</p><p>“Fine!” Sam turned, grinned out his window.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://laughablelament.tumblr.com/post/621369652517421056/prizefight">tumblr post here!</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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